Late Diagnosis: Navigating Neurodivergence

"I feel like I'm missing out on some secret code that everyone knows about but me."

The sentence repeats itself in my head, every moment of every day. A myriad of examinations, consults, research, and years of being asked what accommodations I needed did nothing to solve it. How could I know what accommodations I would need if I didn't even know what was happening in the first place?

It was at 27 years old that I began connecting the dots that many professional health practitioners failed to connect before.

I'm autistic.

The process of discovering this late in life after multiple positions, years of university education, and constant misunderstandings requires a grieving process. When I thought of autism, I thought of my younger, distant cousin who was phenomenal at the piano but couldn't tell when the family had changed the topic from Kirby and Mario. I didn't understand how diverse autism could present itself. Logically, I understood it was a spectrum, but surely I didn't fall on it, right?

Even if I did, it can't possibly affect me much.

That's what I continued to tell myself for months.

When my first manager patted me on the back for going to a Christmas party and used that as the reason to give me a raise, I told myself it had to be a misunderstanding of what was qualifying as "teamwork" in his eyes.

When my next job asked me what accommodations I needed, I stared at my doctor. I had no idea. All I knew was that my feedback sessions were incredibly inconsistent, that I created reference documentation multiple times for myself because the one provided was often difficult to navigate and full of vague wording, and I left shortly after being told by a coach that yes, I was being talked down to.

I felt consistently drained as I never knew what to expect at my next position, always on my toes with no clear direction of where my career could grow. I focused every shift on writing down guests' first names and defining features so I could practice conversing with them at home and show excellent hospitality skills when I ran into them at work.

In the next position, I had immense difficulty understanding when my manager was being sarcastic. I took everything at face value, following instructions to the letter. If I was told that the acid wash needed to be used only for galvanized steel parts and never for aluminum, I would ensure it was so. This, naturally, led to frustration when I noticed the instructions being directly contradicted within the next 5 hours of the shift.

I continually chalked this up to being a Hispanic Latino working in the midwest. It had to be a cultural difference. That's the way I rationalized feeling broken and lost. In therapy, I dove into the culture, asking my midwest-born-and-raised social worker for feedback about every minute interaction I ever had.

"Is this normal?"

"Is it usual?"

"Was this sarcasm?"

"Did they mean it as a joke?"

A study published in 2014 speaks of autism and early diagnosis within the Latinx community. Diagnosis and developmental disorders are seen as an embarrassment, a humiliation to the community-oriented culture, and I was no exception. Over two decades of struggling with "feeling robotic" and "missing out" were dismissed time and time again, and even now in 2023, organizations that claim diversity and inclusion initiatives struggle with understanding and successfully implementing truly inclusive solutions, leaving them as a low priority and disregarding the benefits they can bring to employee engagement and overall profitability.

Or worse, they charge these initiatives to the marginalized groups, giving them the responsibility for self-advocacy and educating others, requesting free emotional labor, and disregarding the effects of this on employee mental wellness and productivity.

How can organizations avoid casting aside, marginalizing, and potentially discriminating against a vulnerable group such as neurodivergent folk? After years of running in circles, trying to find ways to advocate for myself in a world not designed for autistic folk, I've gathered feedback from colleagues, friends, and support groups.

• Transparency: when setting up a meeting, provide context to the attendees; a blank invitation is sure to be accepted with hesitation and anxiety
• Clear feedback: "dancing" around the topics can seem like the best idea to foster professional communication, however, it rarely works as intended; instead, say what you mean and mean what you say
• Timelines and expectations: avoid being vague and leading on your organization, employees, and clients with sentences such as "potentially, in the future" or "within the coming weeks perhaps"
• Camera usage in remote work: consider the context of the meeting and whether having the camera on is truly conducive to productivity or if it is a way to micromanage your team; if it's unnecessary, why require it?
• Contradictions: employees (and clients) do notice when you say the company is doing great and yet layoffs are reported; be the example and avoid "do as I say, not as I do"
• References and tools: provide your team with the necessary reference material and the last update date after meetings or instructions, at the least, offer the option to receive these in alternate forms such as written or recorded
• Advocacy and solutions: neurodivergent folk may not even be aware of their own neurodivergence; don't assume they'll speak up or even know what to say, take the extra step to do your own research on how you can accommodate and progress together
• Avoid discriminatory phrases: "You don't seem autistic!" - a phrase often said to be taken as a compliment when it is not; neurodivergent folk should never be made to feel ashamed of not fitting anyone's idea of neurodivergence nor have their condition examined under any stereotypical lens

As a neurodivergent person, I learned quickly to adapt to different organizations. I study and learn the communication style and culture to ensure I align with the expectations.

Are your communication style, company culture, and expectations inclusive of neurodivergent folk? If not, what initiatives will your organization take to make it so?